


Lightweight

by Sunnybone



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Comedy, Cuddling, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem), Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Semi-established relationship, because Sylvain has the fortitude of a Saint, drunk makeouts, there's no sex in this lmao, trans felix, when you're basically dating and everyone knows you're dating but you haven't said you're dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 10:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnybone/pseuds/Sunnybone
Summary: Byleth decides to host a little drink session for their former students to help blow off some of the steam of fighting a war, which goes a little sideways considering Felix is a surprising lightweight. Sylvain saves everyone's lives by removing Felix before he does something embarrassing enough to necessitate a massacre when he sobers up.For this good deed, Sylvain suffers the torment of caring for an incredibly clingy drunk Felix.





	Lightweight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GenericWeebUsername](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericWeebUsername/gifts).

> For one of my dearest friends and the muse who brings me some of my most horrible ideas ;)
> 
> I still haven't seen any concept art for how the hell Felix's timeskip outfit works, but [this tweet](https://twitter.com/guessibetter/status/1173852751652163584) is pretty much what I headcanon Felix's sexy disaster of an outfit to be, if you need a visual reference

They didn't make a big habit of drinking, not in the middle of a war, but sometimes there was a little too much steam built up, and if Byleth learned anything from their days as a mercenary it was how to relax a group of wound up fighters.

So Byleth carefully gathered their former students in the Knight's hall after a war meeting one night, plonked a few bottles of booze pilfered from the monastery kitchens onto the table, and gestured for everyone to sit down.

Mercedes had been the first to take a seat, eagerly looking over the bottles with a careful merchant's eye. “Oh, Annie, you'll like this one. And...hm, this one is bitter enough for Felix, I think.” Felix scoffed at that.

“I think I'll pass—“ he started, but then Sylvain roped an arm around his shoulder and half dragged him over to the table.

“Now, now, Felix, don't be a spoilsport. The professor clearly went to some trouble to set this up!” Felix shoved the arm off of his shoulder, grumbling, but he did sit down. Felix complying seemed to necessitate everyone join, even Dimitri, who had been hovering uncertainly by the door.

“Are we just going to drink right out of the bottles like heathens—“ Felix started, and Byleth smugly began producing glasses from the basket they had carried the alcohol in. “Ugh, you really did prep, didn't you?”

“We've all been under a considerable amount of stress lately,” they said. “I thought it would be nice to have one night to relax and pretend things aren't so dire.”

“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” Ashe said as Felix put an elbow on the table and leaned his cheek in his palm, rolling his eyes. He continued to grumble as the glasses were passed around and the alcohol poured, and as the conversation waxed and waned he nursed first one and then another glass in a watchful silence.

Felix was on his third glass when Sylvain challenged Byleth to shots of the hardest liquor on the table.

By the time Ingrid started harping on Sylvain to slow down, Felix was silently finishing his fourth glass.

“Sylvain the last thing we need right now,” Ingrid was saying, just the tiniest bit careful not to slur, “is for you to get drunk and stumble off for a disastrous fling.”

“Excuse me, I am incredible at holding my liquor,” he said, “and I haven't _had_ any drunken flings—“ he paused, looked thoughtful. “Ok, well, you got me there. But not since before the war, anyways.”

“Is Felix alright?” Dedue asked quietly, and Ingrid and Sylvain turned to look at Felix—his arms were crossed almost sullenly over his chest, his cheeks were red, and he was frowning down at the table as if it had personally insulted him.

“How much has he had?” Ingrid asked, and Mercedes hmm'd.

“Oh... three, four glasses?” she said sweetly, and Sylvain and Ingrid both scrambled for the bottle she was tipping over Felix's cup to fill it a fifth time.

“Oh dear,” Dimitri said, and Sylvain knew that he and Ingrid were also vividly remembering the time long, _long_ before the war, when Sylvain had snuck a bottle of booze and the four of them had drunk it in an old tower of the palace. After a few sips Felix had gone silent and red faced, and though he spoke just fine, Sylvain and Dimitri'd had to carry him down the stairs between them. At the bottom, Felix had given each of them, Ingrid included, a sloppy kiss on the cheek and told them they were wonderful.

“Have we upset you, somehow?” Ashe asked, and Sylvain snickered while Ingrid snorted and Dimitri sighed.

“He's not angry, he's drunk,” Sylvain said, and Felix snapped a glare at him.

“I am _not_ drunk.” He sounded fine, and other than the red cheeks and the slight pout, he looked normal.

“Felix, you are the biggest lightweight we know!” Ingrid said, and Byleth hmm'd speculatively.

“Perhaps it's best if you don't drink any more, Felix.” Felix turned his glare on Byleth.

“I think,” he almost sneered, “that I can judge my own limits. I'm a grown man. If you want to cut me off, you'll have to fight me for it.”

“You want to duel. Over alcohol?” Byleth asked, slow, and Dimitri dropped his head into his hands.

“A spar will suffice,” Felix said, rolling his eyes, and Ingrid's quiet 'oh no' fell into the silence as Felix pushed himself upright, leaning on the table with his hands firmly planted. “Well, _Byleth_?”

Byleth's face was carefully blank as they cocked an eyebrow, and it was Sylvain's 'oh no' that followed Byleth as they stood. “Very well.” It was Dimitri's turn to 'oh no'. Byleth started to walk around the table towards the dirt sparring pit at the other end of the knight's hall, but stopped when Felix turned and, no longer supported by the table, took several wobbling, unsteady, _incredibly drunk_ steps in the same direction. He seemed to make very little progress, as every two or three steps forward was followed by a rocking step that leaned him in some other direction, back or to the side.

Ingrid and Sylvain were dissolving in laughter, while Dimitri watched through the splayed fingers of one hand, his other hand covering his mouth even as his shoulders shook.

“What are you laughing at, you two?” Felix growled, managing to turn and glare at them, his arms windmilling a bit. “Don't think I won't kick your asses when I'm done with Byleth just because I love you.” Ingrid's laughter went high and breathless, and Sylvain was flapping one of his hands, eyes squeezed shut with mirth.

Then Felix drew one of his swords, a real blade instead of a practice sword, and there was a shock of worry across the whole table for about two seconds—it lasted until Felix whipped the sword towards them, meaning to threaten, and instead threw the sword to the ground three feet in front of himself. He blinked at it for a moment, and Annette gave a little snrk of laughter behind the hands clapped over her mouth.

This seemed to set off the whole table, as Felix stumbled towards the sword, trying ineffectually to pick it up; he bent, rocked forward precariously—Sylvain half rose from his seat—and rocked back upright, still a foot away from the blade. “Hrm.” He looked at it, perplexed, and Byleth let out a tiny chuckle. Felix leaned forward again, stumbled a precarious step forward, and righted himself somewhat closer to the sword but still out of reach. Sylvain decided he should probably intervene before Felix fell face-first into the dirt or, worse, actually made it to the sword.

“Wait your turn, you beautiful bastard,” Felix said as Sylvain approached, and Ingrid positively cackled. Sylvain's timing was good, as he managed to catch Felix by the back of his coat when he finally overbalanced, cape flipping over his head. Sylvain righted him and flipped the cape back, but the hood had fallen up as well and covered Felix's hair and forehead. “Oh, very well, I guess I'll fight you first, if you're that impatient.” Felix was looking up at him with an adoring smirk, and Sylvain wanted very much to kiss him.

He resisted valiantly, considering Felix would murder him in the morning if he did that sort of thing in front of everyone, and pushed the hood back to rest on Felix's shoulders.

By now, Byleth had joined him and was retrieving Felix's sword—they very wisely did not give it back to him, but handed it off to Ingrid for safe keeping. “I'm not going to fight you, Felix—I think it's actually time we go to bed,” Sylvain said, and Felix sighed a long sigh.

"I guess fucking's as good as fighting," he mumbled quietly, and Sylvain squawked out a nervous, choking laugh, turning to see how many people Felix was going to kill when he sobered up—no one at the table seemed to have heard, but Byleth, standing closest to them, was carefully avoiding eye contact and pinching their lips together as though holding in a laugh. Sylvain made a distressed noise and turned back to Felix.

"Ok, buddy, I think it's time to make our hasty escape before you are compelled to a massacre." That said, he leaned and slid an arm around and under Felix's ass to the backs of his knees, scooping him up to hold him against his chest like a drunkenly-blushing bride. Felix did not make it easy, flailing his arms and planting an elbow in Sylvain's armpit.

"Put me down," he grumbled even as Sylvain was readjusting him into a sturdier grip, and despite his protest he wrapped an arm around the back of Sylvain's neck. This was where Sylvain would have been hooting and teasing if he was watching this unfold between two of his friends; fortunately, none of the other lions were quite the sort of asshole he was.

Still.

“Behave, Sylvain,” Ingrid called as Sylvain started carrying Felix away, and that was what seemed to finally break Dimitri—his laughter, loud and charming in its rarity, followed them out of the knight's hall.

Sylvain was glad it was so late as he carried Felix back to his room, because they met no one and that meant fewer things for Felix to bemoan in the morning when he was sober. Right now, though, he was complaining into Sylvain's shoulder.

“I can walk, you know.”

“Oh, I know, but this is faster. Less chance of going to the infirmary, too.” Felix grumbled and mumbled something into the crook of his arm and Sylvain's shoulder that Sylvain didn't catch. “Hm?” Felix lifted his face from where it was jammed against his own arm.

“Said you're _strong_,” he repeated, blinking at Sylvain, and Sylvain thought _oh shit that's cute_.

“Thanks,” he just said, smirking, and Felix dropped his face back into his arm.

“I like it.” Felix curled his free hand into the front of Sylvain's shirt, and Sylvain was glad he had foregone his armor for the Professor's little get together in favor of the more comfortable shirt and pants he wore beneath. “Nice,” he sighed, and Sylvain had to focus on walking because otherwise he was going to lose it at how cute Felix was when he was drunk. Besides, he might be strong but Felix was not exactly light—going down the stairs in front of the first floor rooms was easy enough, but he would also have to lug Felix's ass up the stairs to the second floor, and then two more small sets of stairs to his room.

He could put him down and walk him up, but Sylvain had the feeling from the heavy way Felix was clinging to him that if he did, Felix would be more likely to lie down on the stairs and try to sleep than helpfully walk up them. He might even fall asleep before he got him into his bed, which was _extremely_ cute.

When he got to the main staircase, he stopped and readjusted his hold on Felix because the perfect cap to this night would be dropping Felix down the stairs. Felix whined into Sylvain's neck, and Sylvain made a comforting noise and gave him a light squeeze.

"It's ok, I got you," he said, and then stuttered out a surprised noise when Felix kissed his neck. Hm. That would _definitely_ make climbing stairs difficult. He waited a moment, but Felix didn't do it again, just breathed soft on his neck, which...was also doing things to Sylvain, but not the kind that might make you fall down the stairs and die. “Ok,” he said softly to himself, gathering his wits, and started up the stairs.

He was glad he didn't have to be quiet, since no one was in their room, asleep, like they should be at this hour. It meant he was able to hurry, his footsteps almost blasphemously loud in the dim quiet of the corridor, and he sighed loudly in relief when he got to Felix's door.

He set Felix down outside his door, meaning to open it, but Felix clung to him with a noise of complaint, and when he looked down Felix pushed up on his toes, pulling at Sylvain at the same time for leverage and kissing him. It wasn't the first time—they'd been kissing a bit off and on for a while, when the moment struck, but they always seemed to be too busy or to get interrupted, and they had been silently dancing around the whole idea of their relationship being More Than friends. This was different, though—_unreserved_, Sylvain would call it, if he had been able to think.

Instead he kissed Felix back, openmouthed and hungry, tasting the bitterness of the wine on Felix's tongue, the backs of his teeth. Sylvain barely noticed he was palming Felix's ass until Felix wrapped his arms up atop Sylvain's shoulders and _jumped_, legs coming up around Sylvain's waist as Sylvain helped lift him. The shift in weight sent Sylvain stumbling a step forward, thumping Felix's back into the wall, and Felix growled, used the wall as leverage to grind against Sylvain—

Who groaned, realizing they were essentially humping in the dormitory corridor, and that Felix was far too drunk for Sylvain to be doing this because he was always mortified at any kind of public affection—Sylvain's hands slid from supporting Felix's ass to the undersides of his thighs, strong fingers prying them away from his body as he stepped back and let Felix slide down the wall to stand in front of him.

“Goddess have mercy on me,” he sighed, “you are _so_ drunk, Felix.”

“Tease,” he complained, and Sylvain thought _look who's _fucking_ talking_. He opened the door while Felix was still watching him sulkily, and then he turned and took Felix by the shoulders, turning him and walking him forward into the room. Once they were inside and Sylvain closed the door, he let go of Felix's shoulders; Felix leaned back into him with a sigh, and Sylvain tried not to think about the very sensitive and excited places pressed against Felix as he reached around him to unbuckle his sword belt and the strap of his pauldron. Felix just leaned against him and blinked blearily, no help at all.

Sylvain took the un-looped sword-belt and its solitary sword and set it against the wall by the door, but the pauldron was another problem—the damn thing wasn't just strapped on, Felix had his arm through it. He sighed, let the unbuckled straps hang as he took Felix's hand and tried to remove his glove. This was difficult, as Felix immediately wrapped his fingers around and through Sylvain's with a contented hum.

Sylvain dropped his face to the top of Felix's head, laughing softly. "Felix, help me take off your gloves." Felix made a slightly annoyed noise, but he freed Sylvain's fingers and tugged at his gloves, roughly unsnapping the straps that held them tight to his wrists before yanking them off and immediately dropping them on the floor. Sylvain held back another laugh.

"Thank you," he said instead, and took the opportunity to slide the pauldron down Felix's arm and over his hand, dropping it next to his sword belt. He reached his arms around and unhooked Felix's cape, then walked him forward toward his desk chair. By the time he got him there, he had managed to wiggle the cape from between them, and slung it over the back of the chair as he sat Felix down. Felix complained, but Sylvain dropped to a knee in front of him and started undoing his gaiters and boots.

He was halfway through sliding off the first gaiter when Felix shifted and mumbled, “Hot.” Sylvain's fingers twitched, and he glanced up at Felix in surprise, only to find him fumbling ineffectually at the fastenings of his coat, consternation on his face. He gave up after a minute and looked down at Sylvain morosely, fingers curled against his chest. “I'm hot.”

“Mm'hm,” Sylvain replied thoughtlessly, and then shook himself. “Let me get your shoes off and then I'll help you, ok?” Felix looked at him for a moment, thinking, which seemed to be difficult at the moment for him, and then nodded. Sylvain went back to the gaiters and thought about how many times he had fantasized about undressing Felix piece by piece; it was, in all honesty, a lot sexier when he was jerking off to the idea of it than in reality—most fantasies were, unfortunately.

He sighed when Felix was finally barefoot—Sylvain had almost caught a knee in the face pulling one of Felix's shoes off—and reached up to unfasten Felix's coat for him. He then helped Felix pull it off, one arm at a time, and shoved it back over the back of the chair behind him. Felix glared down at one wrist, the tight cuff of his shirt lined with tiny buttons.

“Why do I have so many buttons?”

“Ask your tailor,” Sylvain replied as he took hold of the offending wrist and started unfastening the cuff. Honestly, he had wondered a bit of the same, with all of the buttons and belts and buckles Felix wore on his entirely custom-tailored outfit, and he speculated there was a bit of repression there. Felix would beat his ass if he suggested it though, after reminding him that his clothes were tight to keep them out of his blade's way. Never mind that Sylvain's clothes were practically button-free and never got in _his_ way.

Anyways.

He helped Felix unbutton and remove his white shirt, setting it on his desk when Felix tried to throw it on the floor, and looked up at him, hands on Felix's knees. “Better?” Felix rubbed his now-bare arms and then nodded. “Ok, then, let's get you in bed.” He rose and took Felix's hands as he did, pulling him upright—Felix did little to resist the upward momentum, and smacked his face into Sylvain's chest with an angry little yelp. He glared up at Sylvain, rubbing his nose with the sleepy movements of the Very Drunk, and Sylvain couldn't help himself; he pressed an adoring kiss to the center of Felix's forehead. “You're hopeless, huh?”

Felix huffed and let Sylvain lead him over to the bed and get him settled comfortably, but when Sylvain turned to blow out Felix's candles and leave Felix made an unhappy noise.

“Sylvain,” he said, long and drawn out and sounding _wounded_, and Sylvain turned back to see him reaching an arm out and frowning. “Don't go.” Fuck, that went straight to Sylvain's heart, and he pressed a hand to his chest unconsciously and made an immediate decision.

“Shh, I'm just putting out the light, I'm coming back.” Felix gave him an 'ok' in a very small voice, so he did, and then Sylvain made his way back to sit on the side of the bed and take off his boots. Felix wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed his cheek to the small of Sylvain's back, and Sylvain wondered if Felix was always an incredibly clingy drunk or if he himself brought it out in him. He untangled himself from Felix's arms and was met with another wounded protest. “You have to let me in the bed, Felix,” he said through a little laugh, and Felix scooted away enough for Sylvain to lie down before immediately clinging to his back again.

He felt Felix's face pressed into the hair at the back of his head, and then Felix made a noise of disgust and something that sounded like he was trying to spit something out. “Why are you so hairy?” he complained, and Sylvain snickered.

“Because you're kissing the back of my head. Where my hair grows.”

“Oh.” Felix sighed. “It should be the front of your head.” Sylvain would have liked that, but if he rolled over and let Felix cling to the front of him Sylvain would absolutely die from the effort of _not_ fucking him. So. Back of his head it was. He felt Felix's lips against the back of his neck, and then Felix muttered something.

“Hm?”

“'mhormy,” he repeated, mouth still pressed to Sylvain's neck, and Sylvain tried to figure it out.

“Huh?” He turned a bit, and Felix leaned back enough to whine, clearly:

“I'm horny.”

_Clearly_ the Goddess was testing Sylvain, punishing him for his _many_ transgressions.

“Sorry about it?” he managed, voice a little cracked, and Felix made a frustrated noise, wiggling against his back. Sylvain could sympathize, he was likewise turned on, but it was so much worse having to be the more sober, _responsible_ one saying no. Which, considering where Felix's hand was sliding to, he was going to have to do. Sylvain caught the hand that was ambling its way towards his dick and brought it back up to the center of his chest, holding it there in his own. “No sex tonight, Felix.”

Felix huffed, wriggled again, and then squeezed Sylvain's hand. “Fine. 'N th'mornin,” he muttered into Sylvain's hair. Sylvain fucking doubted that, considering the hangover Felix would probably have and the fallout from his little show with Byleth, but he brought Felix's hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles anyways.

“Sure, in the morning, if you sleep now.” Felix hummed, tip of his nose against Sylvain's neck.

“Sleepin.” Felix gave one more wiggle, but it was more to settle himself, and in a few moments his breathing slowed and evened into sleep.

With Felix pressed up warm against his back, all lean, deadly muscle, Sylvain's hard-on refused to die for a long, _long_ time, and sleep took it's time in taking him.

+

Sylvain woke up to a slap on the ear, which was followed by a hiss.

“What the fuck did you do to me last night?” Sylvain covered his ear with a hand as he turned to look at Felix, leaning over him with hands planted on either side of his waist. His hair had come undone and was a mess, and he had wriggled out of his pants at some point during the night, so he was only wearing that sleeveless turtleneck shirt and his underwear. It would have been hot as hell if he wasn't glaring down at Sylvain in a very angry—_not_-_sexy_-angry—way.

“Aside from carry you up the stairs so you didn't break your neck, help you undress because you whined about being hot, and lay here with you drooling in my hair all night? Nothing.” He rubbed at his ear. “Well, actually, we did make out in the hallway—“

“_Sylvain_—“

“I'm not a fucking monster, you know,” he said, actually quite hurt that Felix would think he would take advantage, especially after _how much_ advantage he _had not_ taken. Felix blinked at him, frowned, and sighed, a hand going to his forehead as he sat back.

“You're right, I'm sorry.” Felix looked around blearily, seemed to notice his pants crumpled at the foot of the bed where he had kicked them off. He also seemed to notice that Sylvain was still entirely clothed in his own pants and soft shirt. “I'm sorry I hit you,” he said in a much smaller voice. Sylvain had taken worse knocks from Felix during their friendlier sparring matches, and he smiled.

“You can kiss it better for me later,” he said, warm, and reached up for Felix. “Come here.” Felix let himself be drawn down to lie with his head on Sylvain's chest, grumbling feebly. Sylvain rested one hand on Felix's back, the other hand climbing up the back of his neck into Felix's hair, fingers massaging along his scalp even as he used his mildest healing spell to help with the hangover he knew Felix was suffering. He worked his thumb into the base of Felix's skull and Felix groaned and practically melted. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you. Ugh, I can't believe you all let me drink so much.” Sylvain laughed at that, hand coming up from Felix's back to cover his eyes, and he felt Felix turn his head to look at him. “What?”

“You are a very quiet drunk, Felix. And by the time anyone noticed, you were so far gone you challenged Byleth to a spar when they _suggested_ we cut you off.” Felix didn't say anything, and when Sylvain looked down at him he was met with wide-eyed embarrassment.

“Say you're joking.”

“Sorry, but I'm sure Ingrid will tell you all about it when she gives back your sword—“ Felix groaned in horror and dragged his hands up to cover his face, which he pressed into Sylvain's chest. “Oh, don't worry, she's probably the only one who'll tease you about it, everyone else is too nice and Dimitri would expect you to stab him.”

“Strike me from this earth.” Sylvain just smiled and brushed his fingers through Felix's hair, trying to bring it to some semblance of order.

“How about I don't do that, and instead we go take a bath and get some breakfast.”

Felix was still mortified, but he agreed that he smelled and felt like an old wine cask, so they got up and Felix got dressed decently enough to make their way to the baths. Felix buckled on his sword-belt even though Sylvain teased ("Are you going to duel in the _bath_?”), and he let Sylvain help to pull his hair back and tie it while he put on his shoes. Felix was praying aloud as he gathered fresh clothes that it was early enough they could make it to the baths and back without running into anyone, and Sylvain stopped him with a hand on his upper arm.

“You didn't do anything _too_ embarrassing, and the only people who saw us were our friends. But, if it makes you feel better, I won't let them tease you. Well, I probably can't stop Ingrid, but I'll _try_—“ Felix pushed up on tiptoe and kissed him, not unreserved like when he was drunk but still more open and _wanting_ than most of the kisses they'd exchanged. Sylvain pulled him in and held him there—he wasn't drunk _now_, so he didn't have to hold back, and when Felix actually backed off the kiss and _nibbled on his lip_, Sylvain was thankful for the Goddess's mercy.

“Maybe after breakfast we could come back here and—“

“Oh, fuck yeah, that's a _plan_—“ Sylvain started and Felix kissed him again, quick, and then backed up and looked down.

“Shit.” The clothes he had been holding were crumpled under their feet. Sylvain covered his face with one hand and laughed, his other hand sliding up Felix's shoulder.

“Ok, ok, I'm going to go grab a change, you get ready, meet in the hallway in five?”

“Yes, that's good, I want to get clean and fed _fast_.” There was an urgency to his tone that shot straight to Sylvain's dick, and he could only reply with a 'mm' and make his retreat or they were never even going to make it to the baths. Closing the door to Felix's room, he turned and almost slammed into Ingrid, carrying Felix's sword.

“Oh, hey, Ingrid!” He reached out and plucked the sword from her hand, loose with surprise. “Thanks for bringing that back.” Ingrid was looking at him, taking in his wrinkled clothing and messy hair, and her face was starting to shift into one of her scolding faces—the one reserved for the Really Big Fuck-Ups, it looked like.

“Sylvain Jose Gautier,” she started, and he put up a hand to hold her off.

“Why,” he asked, letting the smiling facade drop, “is everyone so bent on thinking I'm a terrible person?” That stopped the storm brewing in her face in its tracks, and he continued. “I didn't touch him, ok? Well, not last night, but we sure were just getting started a minute ago—“ and that was all he needed to have her red faced again, balling her fists to probably slug him in the gut, but at least this time it was for something he actually_ did_.

“_Sylvain_!” She lifted a fist, held it for a moment, and then turned it to point at him. “You be good to each other. And don't ever, _ever_ tell me anything about your sex life again, or I _will _kill you.” She held his gaze for a moment, and then turned on her heel and retreated down the hallway as fast as she could without obviously running.

“We love you, too, Ingrid!” he called after her, and she only sped up.

Then he remembered he had about two minutes to grab his things and meet Felix back here, and dashed off to his own room with a genuine grin.

**Author's Note:**

> My best friend and I were discussing Felix being the lightweight of the Childhood Quartet, and then she sent me [this video](https://youtu.be/0Au_8GMUxVs) and said "it's Felix" and suddenly my hands were possessed and I wrote this
> 
> As usual, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@AceMorningStar](https://twitter.com/AceMorningStar)


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